Anything But A Good Day
by wayward-tiger
Summary: WARNING: Underage rape/non-con. Dean would later admit that the alcohol had started rushing to his head at this point. Hurt/comfort without the comfort. Not a feel good fic.


Dean just having finished his sixth drink of the night, slammed the glass' base hard on top of the marble bar counter. Dean would later admit that the alcohol had started rushing to his head at this point. The bright neon signs flickered on and off in the background of Dean's fogged vision, and the loud chattering voices of the few remaining bar customers flooded his ears like white noise.

With unfocused eyes, Dean glanced down at his left wrist to see as to what the exact time was. His watch read 2:37 AM in bright red digitized numbers. Dean rubbed his fist into his tired eyes and began to rise unsteadily to his feet. His legs felt heavy and weighed down as he started to move from his spot at the bar toward the entrance door.

Halfway through his journey to the exit, Dean's footing faltered, sending him on a slanted fall into one of the lone two patrons seated at a small table. Dean's hands fumbled around as he fought to keep himself upright with a grip on the other man's chair back. Dean released a heavy sigh of relief, thankful for not having fallen head first into the man's bountiful gut.

The two men at the table had been watching Dean all night as he drank himself into his current state. The larger of the two men had a large, protruding gut that was thankfully covered by a plain wife beater top and an unbuttoned denim jacket. His legs rested wide apart, allowing room for his stomach to hang without discomfort. He had a thick neck that was covered with an equally thick, wire-like copper-colored beard. The other of the two was barrel-chested with broad shoulders that stretched the thin material of his faded grey t-shirt. His brown hair was short cropped, giving him the appearance of almost looking bald. He wore three dog tag chains around his muscular neck, and sported steel-toed brown leather boots. Both men looked to be of similar age, of which Dean had earlier assumed was mid-forties.

The larger man turned himself as much as possible so that he could get a good look over the boy that just stumbled into his chair. The boy didn't look a day over sixteen, but he had somehow managed to worm his way into the bar. He strained his body, but within a moment's struggle he was able to view the drunken skunk known as Dean Winchester. The boy was pale with neatly spiked blonde hair. His eyes were closed so that he could hope to regain his recently lost sense of balance. The boy panted through parted, pale lips, carrying the scent of whisky on his breath.

"What the fuck?" The large man asked incredulously, glancing to his partner across the table.

They both watched the boy leaning on the chair for another moment. He didn't seem like he was in any rush to get away.

"Looks like you've got yourself that twink you've always wanted for Christmas, Ed." The barrel-chested man spoke up.

"Well I'll be damned, Jim." Ed leaned over as far as he could in hopes to see a clearer image of the boy's face, "You gonna be mine, Hon?"

Dean's body swayed momentarily before he got up the strength to straighten himself out to look at the men who were taunting him. "The fuck you want, Old man?" Dean spat before his knees gave out and his body dived to the floor.

Both Ed and Jim laughed themselves silly over the piss-poor attempt of sobriety on the boy's part. Jim bent down on one knee and helped raise Dean again slowly to his feet.

"You sure got one fine looking pair of lips I'd like to pucker up and suck on." Jim whispered into Dean's ear.

At that moment, Ed and Jim shared a knowing glance with each other and headed out the bar with Dean's wobbly and barley conscious body between them. Dean could only muster enough energy to push at them with weak, feeble attempts at escape. He knew his body was too drained from the day's work and the night's poison to fully combat these assholes. His head spun with anxiety when he realized he was being dragged from the bar against his will.

"Le'me go. I need to git' home, S'mmy'll be missin' me if I don' get back." Dean slurred, trying to pull his arms out of their hold.

"Don't worry, we are takin' you home." Jim soothed, pulling Dean out into the brisk air of the dark night.

"I'm sure Sammy won't be missin' you for a while." Ed cooed, leading the trio into a side alley two buildings down from the bar they just left.

Once they turned the corner into the dark space, Jim took hold of Dean's wrists, raising them above his head, and then pressed Dean tight against the red brick wall. Dean's feet slid into a soft pile of white slush that laid on the cold concrete ground as he squirmed in Jim's restraints. Dean went to scream, but was soon silenced by a wad of fabric stuffed in his mouth. While Jim was occupied with holding Dean in place, Ed began to unzip the fly to his dirty, oil-stained jeans with hasty speed and accuracy. As soon as the pants were freed and his boxers were pulled down, Ed walked forward with his fat dick bobbing in motion against the cold January breeze.

"Looks like I forgot my mittens. Mind if I use you to help warm up?" Ed asked in a delighted tone. Dean had a suspicion it wasn't a request but rather foreshadowing as to what he was about to find himself facing.

Without another thought, Ed pulled down the slightly baggy jeans Dean had been wearing, and ripped away his boxers. The man continued to defile Dean by further removing Dean's leather jacket and undershirt until he was left completely bare and exposed to the harsh winter chill. His hair stood on end and goose bumps covered his skin. His nipples turned a dark purple color as they shrunk and erected themselves upright and further away from his skin.

"Looks like the kid's a bit cold too, Ed. Better hurry and warm him up." Jim teased, still maintaining his firm hold on Dean.

Ed took his two palms and spat a glob of saliva into either palm before rubbing up his purple-hued cock with it. Ed moved closer to Dean, using his saliva-sticky hands to part Dean's nude legs. He reached underneath the boy and raised him off the ground, causing Dean's legs to stick out on either side of Ed's round gut.

Dean's eyes widened in horror as he realized what was about to happen. He tried to scream, but the sound that he made was only muffled further by the jammed piece of fabric stuck between his jaws. He felt Ed pull at his ass cheeks, spreading them further apart until the pucker of his hole was exposed to the harsh wind. Dean tried to buck himself away from the men, but their hold was firm.

Slowly, without further lubrication or prep, Ed impaled Dean's tight opening on his cold, hard dick. Dean felt his eyes water at the disturbing sensation of the heavy man thrusting further into his channel.

"So tight and warm, Baby." Ed moaned; he could feel his balls growing heavier with want.

Dean was situated on top of Ed's belly, bouncing with each thrust the man made. The movement made Dean feel like he was riding one of those hop balls he used to wish for as a kid. As Ed continued to thrust, he tilted his head into Dean's stripped chest and began sucking on his small, pointed nipples. The wiry hair of Ed's beard rubbed Dean's sensitive skin in all of the wrong ways.

Jim began to suck kisses onto all surfaces of Dean's exposed skin. When he finished leaving hickeys in every area possible, he shoved his grimy fingers into Dean's mouth. Jim only moved the restraining fabric out of the way just enough for Dean to intake his digits without choking.

"Suck." Jim ordered, thrusting his fingers in and out over Dean's suppressed tongue.

Dean did so and sucked the salty fingers. He tried to imagine that he was drinking a coke out of a straw while he did so. He tried to detach himself from his current situation in any way possible. He started to think about his younger brother, Sam. Dean was lost in his gated wonderland that was his mind, recalling pleasant memories of distant times where he spent his most treasured moments with Sam.

A sudden tear jolted Dean out of his secure thoughts, bringing him back to reality. He felt a rip inside and along the rim of his hole. He could feel warm liquid drizzling down his thighs. He could barely scent the strong iron smell of blood before he scrunched his eyes clothes and bit down on Jim's fingers.

"The fucker just bit me!" Jim yelled, smacking his flat palm into the side of Dean's pale freckled face.

"Get fuckin' off of me!" Dean's voice broke through the fabric hanging limp in his mouth.

"Just another minute, an' it'll be over you impatient brat." Ed hissed, digging his strong fingers into the flesh of Dean's hips. Dean knew there would be bruises there later.

Several more thrusts later and Ed was squeezing Dean into the space between the brick wall and the mass that was his stomach. Dean gasped for air, trying not to suffocate under the weight of the larger man's pressure. He could feel a warm spurt shoot up his ass, causing him a sudden rush of nausea. He wanted to be done.

With a loud wet pop, Ed slid himself out of the warmth of Dean's hole. He reached for his jeans and wrestled them on with great difficulty before he gave Dean a wink of thanks. Jim released his hold on Dean, causing the small boy to drop ass first into the frigid slush beneath.

"Thanks, you're a real doll." Ed nodded, walked out of the alley with Jim close behind.

Dean was left alone, naked and curled in blood-and-come-stained slush. He slowly reached for his father's leather jacket that he had been earlier stripped of and wrapped himself tightly in its comforting warmth. He rocked himself back and forth gently, so as to not trigger anymore firing pain that he was already experiencing through his lower half. He sat alone and cried into the cold January night, wet release spilling out of his ass and onto the concrete.

Today was supposed to be a good day. Today was supposed to be his birthday.


End file.
